


Thunder and Lightning

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Cuddles, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Thunderstorms, gwendolyn briggs may actually be an angel, supportive girlfriends for the win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Gwendolyn comes home to Mildred in clear distress as a thunderstorm rages outside.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 18
Kudos: 169





	Thunder and Lightning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kay_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_1/gifts).



> A sweet little request from Kay_1! I needed to reset myself after last night/this morning's fic, so uh, have some fluff. 
> 
> (According to a "political graveyard" (a record of mayors) of Salinas, the nearest city to Lucia, a man named G. C. Taylor was the mayor from 1945 to 1949. Whaddya know!)

“You’ll call before you leave?” Mildred asks as Gwendolyn gathers her things. 

“Of course,” Gwendolyn answers, opening an arm towards her, and Mildred darts in. She presses a kiss to the shorter woman’s forehead.

“Take an umbrella,” Mildred murmurs against her neck, “it’s going to rain.” 

And rain it had. And Gwendolyn is tired to begin with— the rain hasn't helped. But the mayor of Salinas had granted her an office for her short stint of work with him, and she is grateful for that. His policies were interesting, and she feels very able to write his voice into some speeches. It does help to have privacy, be able to sit at a desk and concentrate on one thing at a time. Build the crowd in her mind. Listen to what they need. 

A crack of thunder rolls through the air. 

“Hey, Patty,” she calls, ducking into the hall. The secretary looks up and smiles. “I think I’m gonna call it for tonight. Mayor Taylor’s speech is on his desk. You got a phone I could use?” 

Patty smiles and gestures over her shoulder. “Sure! There’s one in the lounge. You good to drive in this downpour, Mrs Briggs?” 

“Oh, sure,” Gwendolyn chuckles. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Thanks.” She flashes the woman a smile as she gathers her briefcase, her coat, her umbrella, and strides past her to the lounge. 

Patty grins back. “No problem.” 

The lounge is quiet and a little chilly, so Gwendolyn slips on her coat and scarf. The receiver on the phone is chilly too, and Gwendolyn dials as quickly as she can, shuffling between feet so she’s still moving. 

The phone rings. 

And rings, and rings. Eventually the phone stops ringing, and Gwendolyn furrows her brow, bringing the phone away from her ear and blinking at it in confusion. “Huh,” she says, hanging it back up. Perhaps the phone doesn’t work? Another rumble shakes the sky. 

She poses the question to Patty, who shakes her head. “No, ma’am, that phone should work, unless the thunderstorm has knocked it out.” But the woman is friendly, and Gwendolyn’s made an impression on her, so she offers, “Do you want to try my phone?” 

Gwendolyn smiles in relief. “That would be great, my— my husband asked me to call before I came home.” 

“Ah,” Patty grins. “Isn’t it lovely, the little things they say?”

Gwendolyn’s smile softens. “It sure is.”

But this phone rings and rings and rings too. She feels the frown creep back on her face, but lifts her lips to smile at Patty as she hands the phone back. “He probably got home and fell asleep,” Gwendolyn says, shrugging, and Patty agrees. “Have a good night!” 

“You too, Mrs Briggs. Drive safe, now.” 

She drives a little slower than she usually would, despite the worry that Mildred never picked up the phone. The rain is thick, and while she’d like to be home quickly, she would have to actually make it home first. Her fingers tap impatiently on the wheel as she drives. She can see lightning striking out at sea. 

By the time she arrives home, she thinks she’s been driving for half an hour. She’s more tired, and all she really wants is to cuddle up to Mildred and take her to bed for a long night of snuggling. Maybe a cup of tea before that. 

When she opens the door, she nearly throws her briefcase. 

The tea kettle is screaming bloody murder and there is sobbing coming from the kitchen.

“Mildred!” 

She doesn’t bother taking off her coat, dropping the umbrella in place as the door swings shut behind her. There’s a wailing cry from the kitchen, and Gwendolyn nearly leaps over the armchair in the living room in her haste to get there. 

Mildred is huddled into the corner of the kitchen, knees up to her chest and body shaking with tremors and sobs alike. Gwendolyn gasps at the image, but her ears are ringing, and the kettle can’t be helping Mildred either. 

So she reaches out, turns off the burner and reaches for the handle. “Ow, shit,” she curses— the handle burns her fingers. It must have been over the burner for a long time to be like that. She’s surprised the thing hadn’t caught on fire. 

She moves it to a cool burner with a towel wrapped around the handle. It’s still screaming, so she props open the little lid; a small puff of steam comes out, and then there’s nothing, and Gwendolyn realizes just how close it had been to actually being on fire. 

Thunder cracks overhead and Mildred lets out a small scream. 

It strikes Gwendolyn— she knows exactly what’s happening. 

_You can barely hear your orders over the rail of bullets._

_If you’re not lucky, you get a bomb going off in your face and your skin burns off._

_I think, uhm. I think it’s always in my head._

Gwendolyn lets out a slow breath, moving into Mildred’s field of vision— or what it will be, once Gwendolyn can convince her to unbury her head. “Sweetheart,” she starts, taking off her coat and then kneeling down, “I’m right here, you’re okay.”

“I can’t,” Mildred wails, and it loops— “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” all on repeat— until the record breaks. Gwendolyn tries to swallow tears at the low noise of pain that comes out of her instead. 

She hates seeing Mildred like this. She hates seeing her hurt so badly, hates seeing the way her strong, beautiful woman can strain under so much weight until she breaks. 

She doesn’t mind being there to catch her; she sees it as a privilege, really. She just wishes the fall didn’t hurt Mildred so much. 

“Incoming,” she says, loud enough that Mildred will hear but not so loud as to startle her. She shuffles forward in her crouch and reaches her hands out, sliding them around Mildred’s shoulders. The kitchen lights up with extra light, and then there’s a low _boom_ , and Mildred lurches forward, hands flying out to grip Gwendolyn to her. 

Gwendolyn’s knees hit the kitchen tile and she winces. But Mildred is wrapped around her, fingers digging into the backs of her shoulders, her legs framing Gwendolyn’s body, her forehead pressed against Gwendolyn’s sternum. She’s shaking so badly her fingers twitch. Gwendolyn pulls her closer, increases the pressure on Mildred’s skin with her own fingers. 

“I’ve got you,” Gwendolyn murmurs into Mildred’s ear. “You’re home, I’ve got you.” 

Mildred chokes on words. Gwendolyn isn’t sure what the words were supposed to be. 

“Keep holding on,” Gwendolyn tells her. She’s not sure that this is actually helping, but it feels better to hold Mildred than just watch her suffer. 

The rain seems to let up just a little, and the thunder gets further away. The adrenaline starts to leave Gwendolyn’s body and her exhaustion catches back up to her. 

Mildred seems to be losing steam, too, her breathing evening out just a bit. It’s at least slowed down. 

“Let’s get somewhere more comfortable,” Gwendolyn says, trying to keep her discomfort out of her voice. “C’mon, let’s stand.” 

Mildred follows her up, half-pushing both of them up with her own legs. But she doesn’t let go of Gwendolyn’s shoulders, just slides her arms up and around in a hug. Gwendolyn huffs, lets her head drop to rest against Mildred’s, wraps her arms low around Mildred’s waist. 

“Did you get lost?” Gwendolyn asks. Mildred nods in response, hiccups a breath in. “Alright. That’s okay. Where are you now?” 

“With you,” Mildred croaks, a short in-out breath following the statement. 

“Good.” They sway in the kitchen for a moment, until Mildred’s legs start trembling. “I don’t think we can walk up the stairs like this.” 

Mildred presses closer, shaking her head against Gwendolyn’s skin. “Ah,” Gwendolyn half-chuckles, “alright, help me out.” 

She can feel Mildred start to smile against her as she slides her hands down Mildred’s sides, bending her knees until her hands are against the backs of her thighs. She squeezes slightly and Mildred pushes up off the floor, wrapping the shorter woman’s legs around her hips and supporting her there. Mildred lets out a happy sigh, finally stretching her neck out again and nuzzling into the spot where Gwendolyn’s neck and shoulder meet. 

Gwendolyn smiles, turns her head to press a kiss Mildred’s cheek. 

“We’ve got to get you eating more than bologna sandwiches and peaches,” Gwendolyn murmurs as she starts to walk out and towards the stairs. “You weigh next to nothing.” 

“I eat other things,” Mildred protests quietly. “Like oysters.” 

Gwendolyn lets out a genuine laugh, and Mildred smiles against her. “Besides,” Mildred continues, “if I weigh much more, you’ll stop doing this.” 

Gwendolyn rolls her eyes as she comes to the foot of their stairs. She’s not really sure how this part will go, so she splays out a hand on Mildred’s back, reaches for the railing with the other. “Hold on,” she breathes, taking the first couple of steps before she responds. 

(It’s not as hard as she feared— Mildred really does weigh very little.) 

“I’ll get used to it,” she says finally. “As long as you don’t suddenly put on twenty pounds, I think I’m perfectly capable of adjusting.” 

Mildred hums. She sounds much calmer, contented. 

There’s still the sound of rain against their windows, but the thunder has become inaudible by the time Gwendolyn half-falls onto their bed. Mildred relaxes into it, her body bouncing between the bed and Gwendolyn.

Gwendolyn finally sees her face. Despite the sleepy, almost wistful smile on her face, there are tear-tracks marring her skin. Gwendolyn strokes her thumbs over the lines, the salty residue crumbling slightly under her touch. 

“Darling,” she murmurs, “did you hear me call?” 

Mildred blinks in confusion. “You called?”

Gwendolyn sighs. “Yes. Twice.” 

“Oh,” Mildred breathes. 

So that means she’d been huddled in the corner— or at least in that emotional state— for over half an hour. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m—“ Mildred cuts herself off with a yawn. “Oh.”

Gwendolyn laughs, straightening up with a gentle pat to her cheek. Mildred giggles at her. “Let’s go to bed. We can have a big breakfast in the morning.” 

Mildred sits up, watching Gwendolyn move to their dresser. “I’ll make pancakes,” Mildred decides. 

Gwendolyn looks over her shoulder as she pulls out a sleep shirt and pants. “Pancakes sounds good.”

Mildred shoots her a genuine smile, then raises herself from the bed and comes over to Gwendolyn, pulling Gwendolyn's blouse out of her pants. 

She lets Mildred take over, the younger woman’s hands still trembling, but starting to steady themselves as she has a task to focus on. She reaches in the drawer for another set of sleep clothes, places those on top of the dresser next to Mildred. 

Mildred leans forward and presses a kiss to the hinge of Gwendolyn’s jaw as she pushes her shirt off her shoulders. The pants come next, with a kiss to Gwendolyn’s shoulder. She bends to kneel, hands going to Gwendolyn’s calf, unties Gwendolyn’s shoes and guiding her to step out of them. When she peels the (slightly wet) socks off of Gwendolyn’s feet, she drops a kiss to Gwendolyn’s knee. 

Gwendolyn pulls her back up when she’s done, presses a kiss to the corner of Mildred’s mouth. “Put these on,” she murmurs, hands Mildred the second sleep set. 

“That’s yours,” Mildred says, but she’s already reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress. 

Gwendolyn smiles as she puts her own set on. “I know.” 

Mildred bites her lip against her shy smile and Gwendolyn reaches out, tugs her bottom lip loose with her thumb.

They brush their teeth side by side, Mildred watching Gwendolyn from the corner of her eyes. Gwendolyn leads her to bed, pushes her down gently. Mildred tugs her along.

“I want to rest,” Mildred says softly, “but I don’t want to sleep. Not yet.” 

Gwendolyn smiles, leans down to drop a kiss on her nose. She pulls Mildred close, tucks the covers around them. It quickly becomes that pleasant sleep-warm. 

“Tell me about strawberries,” Gwendolyn decides. 

“Strawberries?” Mildred is smiling, but obviously confused. 

Gwendolyn shrugs. “Anything you know about strawberries.” 

“They— they taste like those May evenings, when the sun starts to stay up longer and light everything up golden,” she starts. 

Her Mildred is back. Gwendolyn smiles. 

She wonders if they have any strawberry preserves. They would go well on pancakes in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the double angst yesterday :) Drop me a line in the comments!


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